My world came crashing down a little over a month ago. It was the prolific implosion of pain and hurt and sad and angry and everything in between and had, no has literally brought me to my knees. Painfully so, to the point, the bruises seems as though they will be there forever. Inwardly they will be. Outward, I do a pretty good job of hiding 80% of the pain. Until there is wine of course. Then it’s either sad or angry and often both, at the same time and with a ferocity that makes me not recognize myself. But the wine helps me sleep when the medicine and the melatonin fail. And I am sadder and scarier without a few good hours of rest.
I am not ready to talk about why. I may never be. I spend enough time in the apparently “shameful” therapist’s office now, that I know it doesn’t need to be put here. This month I’ve learned better than I ever thought I could, that social media is a fucking nightmare and people, often under the guise of Christianity, are evil and terrible and mean. That in one moment they can quote Psalms and in the next to make fun of how someone looks, or that they seek help or insult that they perhaps are the actual victim in this scenario.
I have learned that people reach out to you often not because they want to take care of you or love you but because they are dying to know the story. I’ve never cringed so much at the sight of the words “I am praying for you”, in my entire life. The pity looks are almost worse though. “You poor thing”, their eyes read. As if I am some starving African child. Don’t pity me. Treat me as you always have. The pity face makes me feel inhuman.
But I have also learned that people will drive hundreds of miles to keep you from the doors of destruction. That they will bring you groceries and text you through the middle of the night and that they won’t judge you or feel hurt that you’ve become so disconnected that you don’t know a single thing that is going on in their lives. Those people who truly know the meaning of love and community will rush to your rescue when the insanity makes you fear for your safety. They will call the police when the words are too hard to force out of my own mouth, those words will come out of theirs. They will take record of the cruelty and deception. They will fiercely fight for you when you don’t have the strength. They will make sure that you have what you need to go on when you’re not sure you can. I have learned that despite the demons in my head, people care about me and have always, I was just so blind in self-depreciation, that I couldn’t see that there was love all around me. For the most part, that makes the hurt, hurt a little less.
My baby turned 5 this last month. My nephew born. I have been married now 17 years; I have spent nearly half my life with the same person. I enrolled in the doula certification course; of course I can’t even get through the manual but it’s self-paced, thank God. In the past month, I’ve found my voice, bravery and realized my tenacity is fierce. I’ve decided my soul is starving and this horrible, implosion is the kick in the ass I needed to be brave again. I walked into a church for the first time in many years, my heart fully open to Him. I walked in that same church fully prepared to “say it to your face”. I did not sneak in a back door. I did not make a scene. I made it clear that I am human and I am here.
I’d thought long and hard about deleting this blog. Knowing that the catalyst to this insanity has been reading it for close to a year I believe. That they used my words to create this monster that I am not. They used my anxiety and depression and the desire to share and heal other people as a tool to help build this lie that they had a right to hurt people; that they deserved something. No one deserves anything. Especially when you’ve attempted to earn it with lies, deceit, and cruelty. I know you are there, I know you are reading. And I am here, I am human and I am not hiding anymore.